The Stories over the Hiatus
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: This is my entry in the 55 word challenge as put out by brainysmrf. Ratings will vary per shot but won't go beyond T. If it inspires you to post your own, please do!
1. The List

**This is a challenge put out by brainysmrf to see us through the hiatus; the idea being you post one for each day. Obviously, I'm getting started a little later but I'll catch up and hopefully post the last one on March 31. Note: I'm not going in any particular order.**

Limbo

Siren

Badge

Charm

Couch

Gut

Daffodil

Luddite

Necklace

Mistletoe

Coffee

Evidence

Hockey

Intern

Symbiosis

Hug

Ceramics

Warrior

Translation

Sharpshooter

Fish

Math

Gun

Dirt

Pie

Pony

Duck

Brain

Bullet

Librarian

Ruby

Casket

Platform

Wine

Superhero

Pudding

Holster

Domino

Buckle

Pirate

Redemption

Bathtub

Tuxedo

Fingerprint

Phalange

Book

Philistine

Dolphin

Glasses

Cigar

Line

Tattoo

Truth

Egg

Family


	2. Gun

"_Gun goes first."_

Gun

"Why was it so important?" he asked one night as they were finishing up the paperwork from their latest case.

"Why was _what_ so important?" she questioned.

"The permit to carry a concealed weapon," he tilted his bottle of beer at her. "You were so adamant that you get one, despite the fact that I am a professionally-trained sniper who was never more than a few feet away from you. I mean, how many of those re-application forms did you fill out, anyway?"

"Twenty-three," she sniffed, leaning back on the couch, "not that you accepted any of them."

"Fat lot of good that did me when you went over my head," he groused good-naturedly.

"Yes, I did," she nodded smugly, the corners of her mouth betraying her amusement.

"But why did it matter so much to you, Bones?" he returned to his original question. "I mean, you barely use the thing even now. And I seem to remember a few times you'd just draw _my_ gun if we got in a tight spot."

She tucked her legs up underneath of her, considering her answer carefully.

"I believe, initially, I didn't want to be any trouble to you," she finally replied.

"Trouble?"

"Yes," she nodded. "You had made it quite clear that you viewed my presence in the field as a hindrance. Armed, I would be able to protect myself, thus eliminating your need to be concerned with my well-being. I _am_ a good shot, you know?"

"So I've heard," he chuckled. "Hate to break it to you but your keep-Booth-out-of-trouble plan didn't flesh out so well; especially on the Eller case."

"It did, actually," she insisted. "If I hadn't arrived and shot him, he would've burned all of the evidence- and me along with it."

"And yet you were arrested…"

"But never charged," she countered. "I've always suspected that my arrest was more about male posturing than it was my supposed indiscretion."

"You shot and _unarmed_ man with _alcohol_ on your breath," he reminded her. "Do you _know_ how close Cullen came to firing my ass on that one? I put my reputation on the line for you, Bones, and we came _this_ close to losing it all!"

She sobered at that, thinking of all of the murderers who might possible still be free had she and Booth not been allowed to continue their collaborative partnership.

"You still have that hand cannon?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

A smirk lit her eyes as she nodded, "And it's still bigger than yours."

"I keep telling you, Bones, _size_ doesn't matter," he waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh, but in some ways," she said huskily, "it _does_."

Seconds later, she was straddling him, the taste of her lips mingling with his beer as their tongues clashed.

"Do you want to know why I rarely carry a gun anymore?" she asked when they parted for oxygen.

"Enlighten me," he grinned, spanning her waist with his hands.

She leaned forward, her low-cut tank-top giving him full access to her cleavage as her lips stopped millimeters from his ear.

"I trust you."


	3. Casket

Casket

It was a task she had performed innumerable times before: lay out a skeleton anatomically. Her gloved hands handled each bone with reverence and placed them on the satin lining that would carry them to their final resting place. Unlike so many other times, however, her clinical detachment was gone.

Instead of femurs, she saw legs. Legs that young Tempe had clung to as a child when they were in public. Legs that had chased her father and brother out of the kitchen while the two "women of the house" baked cookies at Christmas time. Her mother had been a strong woman who always stood up for her family.

Laying out each rib, she pictured the bosom they'd formed. In infancy she had been suckled and cradled by her mother's chest. As she grew she had come to know it as a safe haven from the Andy Flueggers in her world. Being a genius had never been easy.

Memories that she had long kept at bay flooded back unbidden with each bone she set in place, making her thankful she had waited until the lab was empty to embark on this task. The confusion she had felt in McVicar's barn swirled inside of her once more as the memories of the woman she thought she knew conflicted with the facts she and Booth had unearthed.

It disturbed her that the same hands that tucked her in every night were also employed to crack sophisticated combination locks. That the woman who wouldn't let her children cheat at Monopoly made a living from cheating others of their wealth. As someone who prided herself on her exceptional observation skills, Brennan could not help but wonder if there were things she should have noticed- even as a child- that would have told her all was not as it seemed.

Finally all of the bones were in place save one. With both hands she picked up her mother's cranium. A week ago she had carefully applied tissue markers to it, unaware of its true identity, but hoping that by her efforts its family might be found. The genetic similarities she had missed before were overly evident to her now and she traced them softly before placing it down gently to rest within the casket's confines.

A ragged breath escaped her as she closed the heavy lid by herself with a click and peeled off her gloved. Tears that had been pooling at the corners of her eyes released twin drops that ran silently down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them.

Padding noiselessly to the door, she extinguished the lights. A soft glow from the other side of the otherwise darkened lab told her that her partner was still there, in her office, respecting her need to complete this task alone, but unwilling to let her remain that way.

She took one last look into the room and whispered words she knew no ears but her own would hear.

"Goodbye, Mom."


	4. Truth

Truth

Seeley Joseph Booth considered himself to be a very patient and understanding man. As a sniper, he could stand stock still for hours waiting for the right shot and as an FBI agent he was known at the Bureau for his tough but fair treatment of his prisoners. The lone individual to put both of these traits to the test was Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Never mind that she could run intellectual circles around him any time she wanted _and_ that he had dealt with mules that were less stubborn than she was; he adapted to those just fine, thank you very much. Her habit, though, of picking _the_ worst men on the planet and then bragging to him about her sex life while all he could? Yeah, _that_ threatened to shatter his calm and patience; well, the losers, _and_ his FBI buddy, _and_ his boss.

Which was why he braced himself once again for high drama when she started making excuses to get out of their Wednesday night coffees twice a month. At first he hadn't thought much of it. The first time he asked, she looked at him as if it were none of his business before telling him she had a "prior engagement." He hadn't thought much of it, because they met again the next week as usual. Seven days after _that_, however, she'd blown him off again, and it hadn't taken a genius to figure out she had a new boy toy.

"So what's this one do?" he needled her one Wednesday afternoon as they sat at the diner finishing lunch.

"What does who do?" she asked innocently, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs.

"This mystery guy you're going to see tonight," he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to protest, "and don't tell me you're not seeing anyone, Bones, 'cause I know you better than that."

"Oh you do, do you?" she smirked. "How is that?"

"Every other Wednesday for the past two months you disappear," he leaned close, keeping his voice low. "And then every Thursday morning afterwards, you're all happy and everything. My gut says that you're seeing someone who you don't want me to know about, which means you're going with _your_ gut on this one and, well," he sat back, grinning smugly, "we both know how that story always ends."

For a few seconds, she looked like she was gathering an arsenal of insults and rebuttals to fling at him, but then her countenance changed and she started smirking.

"Actually, you're correct," she nodded. "I have been participating in pre-arranged social engagements with a member of the opposite sex."

"Hah!" Booth crowed. "So, what's he like?"

"Very agreeable," she smiled as if she was enjoying toying with him. "Affable, charming, and a very wry sense of humor."

"Sounds like a man of the year," he grumbled.

"I suppose he could be," she nodded. "His past actions have been quite heroic and even earned him government commendations for his actions."

"Former military then?" he deduced, his mind going to all of the possible harm this mystery man could do to his partner and what Booth would do to him in return.

"Yes," the corners of her mouth turned up softly. "He's regaled me with quite a number of his exploits."

"So you two just sit around and talk about what a great guy he is?" he knew he was close to pouting but didn't care.

"No," she shook her head, "we play games as well." Another smirk. "I've come out on top several times now."

"Wow, look at the time!" Booth shoved back his chair and stood up before Bones could tell him something else he really didn't want to know. "I should get you back to the lab so you can make your 'pre-arranged social" whatever."

"If you insist," she shrugged, shoving the last of his fries in her mouth before standing.

He wasn't up for a fight, so he let her pay for both of them without an argument.

That night as he sat nursing a beer and watching the Flyers lose, he couldn't help but wonder what his partner and her oh-so-perfect boyfriend were up to. Confronting her about it hadn't really solved anything for him, but instead had made things ten times worse. He slept fitfully.

"Good morning," Bones greeted him with a chipper voice and a smile the next morning when he went to check on the progress of their latest case.

"Uh huh," he groused. "You got anything for me, Bones?"

"Nothing as of yet," she shook her head, then looked up at him. "We talked about you last night."

"You mean you and Mr. Perfect?" he whined, slumping down on the chair across from her. "Why?"

"Well," she said slowly, "you _are_ my partner and I spend a great deal of time with you so it was only natural you would come up in conversation at some point."

"Didn't we have this talk, Bones?" he eyed her seriously. "About keeping things that are ours between us?"

"Don't worry," she waved him off, "it's nothing like that. Actually, we both agree that you should come along with me the next time."

"Really?" he sat up straight.

"Yes," her head bobbed up and down. "He's very anxious for you to meet and give your opinion of him in person."

"I dunno, Bones," he raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly very uncomfortable. "I mean, I don't want to be the third wheel or anything."

"If by that you mean you do not wish to feel like an interloper I can assure you that won't be the case," she smiled. "As I said, he's a very friendly man."

"Still not sellin' me on it," he shook his head.

"Well," she smiled again, "you have thirteen days to decide."

He almost told her right then that he would go, but held back. Over the next two weeks he vacillated between accepting her offer or not, unsure if he was really ready to meet a guy that made her so obviously happy. Finally, he decided that he wouldn't be able to get another good night's sleep on Wednesdays if he didn't go and figure out the truth for himself.

She seemed very pleased at his decision and informed him that she would pick him up at his apartment after work on Wednesday. He hesitated at that but she pointed out that she was the one who knew where she was going. Grudgingly, he agreed. It turned out not to be such a bad thing, because he couldn't decide on what to wear and had just finished his final look when she knocked on his door.

He had decided on a pair of blue jeans and his leather jacket opened just far enough so that the letters on his FBI t-shirt could be seen. A part of him really wanted to wear his holster and badge too, but since he figured Bones wouldn't let him out like that he settled for stowing the badge in his jacket pocket and limiting his weapons to his ankle revolver.

"Alright," he told her, rubbing his hands together, "time to meet the mystery man."

**(End Part I) **


	5. Domino

Domino

Brennan did her best to hide a smile from her obviously jealous partner and for a brief moment considered letting him in on her subterfuge. Then she recalled the very self-assured manner in which he'd mocked her at the diner and decided to let him suffer a little while longer.

She hadn't lied to him at all in the answers she'd provided, but she had definitely been misleading. Several weeks before she had received a phone call from the nursing home where Booth's grandfather resided. Apparently Hank was being resistant to taking his prescribed medications and had demanded that they call Booth to get the matter cleared up. When they were unable to contact him, Hank had given them her cell phone number.

Patiently, she informed them that Booth was away at a cabin in the mountains with Parker and most likely wouldn't be available for several days. Halfway through her conversation with the orderly, Hank snatched the phone and begged her to come over and set the "damn doctors" straight. It was nearly five o'clock on a Friday night and as Booth was out of town there would be no new case work for the time being so she agreed and gave him an estimated time to expect her.

Once she arrived, she took full advantage of the usual assumption that her doctorate was an MD and cleared the room, ordering them to leave her his medical file. Calmly and rationally, she had walked Hank through the medications his doctors had prescribed, explaining why they had done so and the health risks he was putting himself at should he continue refusing treatment. After assuring him numerous times that his doctors were well-educated individuals who were not trying to either bilk Medicaid or kill him faster, he finally took his pills.

Relieved, she fully intended to be on her way when he invited her to stay and play dominos. Memories of the enjoyment she used to derive from playing with her father spurred on her acceptance and she smiled when the older Booth insisted on ordering takeout for her when he found out she hadn't eaten; apparently her partner had learned his caretaker tendencies by example. It had been close to eleven when she'd made her way back to the city, but Hank had made her promise to return that coming Wednesday and she found herself looking forward to it.

"Earth to Bones," _Seeley_ Booth's voice broke through her reverie. "Um, where are you going?"

"We have to eat, right?" she asked, pulling into a little place she'd found the second time she'd come up.

"Your boyfriend likes Chinese?" he asked as they waited for their order.

"I hate that term," she wrinkled her nose. "It implies that one is still an adolescent, which is neither accurate nor appealing."

"I'm with you on that one," Booth agreed. "You'd think they'd come up with a better name for people over thirty."

The food came and she paid for it, making sure to grab a set of plastic utensils for Hank along with their chopsticks. She wondered at what point Booth would recognize the landscape, but apparently he was too fixated on his jealousy to notice until they pulled into the parking lot.

"What's going on here, Bones?" he asked suspiciously.

"You wanted to meet the man with whom I've had numerous pre-arranged social engagements recently, correct?" she allowed herself a small smirk.

"Yes," he said slowly as they climbed out of her car.

"Well, there he is," she waved at Hank who was standing outside waiting for them.

"Shrimp!" Hank enveloped Booth in a hug. "Glad you made it! I hear you've been jealous about me and my girl."

Booth's face reddened and he mumbled incoherently as his grandfather released him and turned to hug Brennan. She returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, enjoying the fact that she had managed to trick Booth completely. Hank announced that he was hungry and they made their way to his room.

The elder Booth already had three places laid out on his small table, complete with cold beer, and Brennan got to work quickly unloading the food. She told Hank to take a seat in his well-worn rocker as she retrieved his plastic utensils, along with a plate full of his favorite foods for him.

"What about me?" Booth teased as she gathered her own food and sat down on the couch beside him.

"You're on your own," she poked his thigh, then smiled sweetly, "unless, of course, you'd like me to get you a plate with some of the tofu selections."

While he grumbled about rabbit food, Hank let out a loud guffaw.

"What is this, national "Laugh at a Booth" day?" he complained when he rejoined them.

"Not that I'm aware of," she teased, "though if it is, I suppose I should laugh at Hank as well."

"I don't think so," Hank Booth chuckled.

"It could be diverting," she continued, "especially as I am the only one in the room who, according to the parameters of the day, could not be laughed at."

"Yeah, well, if Shrimp over there ever takes my advice, you could be," Hank stated bluntly.

"Pops!" Booth groaned.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Booth," she chastised him. "And you shouldn't be alarmed either. Hank has been alluding to our marriage for the last several months now."

"Really?!?" Booth choked on his food, staring at Brennan.

"Yes," she nodded, quite used to this line of conversation by now. "He's been building quite the argument."

Booth's mouth was agape as he turned to his grandfather. "You have?!?"

"Damn straight," Hank nodded. "She's handled you for five years now, hasn't she?" He continued without waiting for an answer, "Besides, I'm getting old and I want a granddaughter-in-law and some more great-grandbabies."

"Jared's getting married," Booth pointed out half-heartedly.

"Yeah, he brought her by," Hank waved his hand. "Nice girl. Don't know why you were so hung up on her past though, Seeley. I thought I taught you better than that."

"You told _Pops_ about that?"

"Jared did," she shrugged.

"Of course," he sulked.

"Who's ready to lose to me?" Hank rose, breaking the slight tension as he discarded his empty plate and began setting up the small card table.

"I won last time," she reminded him.

"I'll beat you both," her partner boasted.

She was more than a little surprised when a short time later, Booth did just that. She defeated them in the next round and enjoyed earning her own bragging rights. In the third and final round, however, Hank trounced the partners thoroughly; making her wonder if the sly man had been holding back on them the first two rounds.

Well after midnight Hank was going through a picture album of Seeley and Jared as children when an orderly tapped on the door, delivering a round of medicines and informing them gently but firmly that visiting hours had ended hours ago. Reluctantly, Booth and Brennan hugged Hank goodbye and promised to return again the following Wednesday.

"That was fun," Booth commented when they pulled up in front of his apartment.

"Very," she smiled, then frowned. "Should I have told you earlier that I was visiting your grandfather? I mean, he is _your_ family after all, not mine…"

"I don't think he sees it that way, do you?" he asked gently.

"Definitely not," she agreed, thankful that the darkness hid the tinge blooming on her cheeks.

"Thanks, Bones," his fingers brushed up against hers on the middle console between them. "For taking care of my Pops. That means a lot to me. He means a lot to me."

"And to me as well," she admitted, squeezing his hand back.

They stared at one another for a long moment, until finally he started to pull back.

"Your grandfather makes a convincing argument," she blurted out as his hand reached for the door handle.

He spun around, looking at her first with confusion, then dawning understanding.

"Oh, he does, does he?"

"Yes," she nodded, feeling emboldened. "You should ask me out sometime."

"Maybe I will," his voice rose to the challenge in hers.

"Then maybe I accept."

"Just maybe?" he raised his eyebrows. "I dunno, Bones. I like to be sure about these things before I go asking. My partner always says you shouldn't jump to conclusions until all the evidence is in."

She grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and gave him all the evidence he required.

**(End Part II)**

* * *

**"Domino effect" pretty much sums up Pop's role here, doesn't it? I couldn't resist! I love the old man!**

**They say the best things come in threes so let's round this series out with a first date, shall we?**

**Reviews are love!**

**Gum :)**


	6. Translation

Translation

When the storm that had been threatening to drown DC finally hit as they neared the city, Booth thought it was about as poetically correct as it could get after the week they'd had. His mind drifted back to last Wednesday and the kiss she'd laid on him after all but ordering him to ask her out. Skipping all manner of pretense, she'd shoved her tongue right in. Proving that she could use it to drive him crazy in more than one way.

A smile came to his mouth at that remembrance. They'd made out like teenagers until they were panting for breath. He'd asked her, wryly, if she wanted to go on a date with him and she'd replied, teasing, that it had taken him long enough, but yes, she would. A weighted silence that could have easily ended with a mad dash for the back seat followed, but in the end it was late and they both had to get up for work the next day.

It had been thirteen long hours until he finally saw her again. In a private booth at Sid's, far away from the prying eyes at the diner, they'd discussed what their first date should entail. It shouldn't have surprised him to find that she needed a detailed itinerary and had balked at the thought of him planning something as a surprise. In the end, she'd used her author connections to make reservations for the next night at a new- very exclusive- restaurant that they'd both wanted to go to, and he had picked out a night club he knew she would love.

They'd laughed and bickered and shared the huge basket of fries that Sid had put down in between them until she got called back to the lab. Deciding to test the new direction they were headed in, he'd walked her to her car and laid a small, chaste kiss on her lips when she'd looked up to say goodbye. If she'd suffered any shock it was recovered quickly and before he realized it they were in the middle of something not quite suitable for downtown DC in broad daylight.

That, he mused as sharp gusts of wind began accompanying the rain, had made it ten times harder when he'd had to call her not more than two hours later and cancel. Rebecca and Captain Fantastic had decided that this weekend was perfect for a getaway, leaving him with Parker. Pragmatic Brennan had assured him that his son's needs should come first and agreed to his invitation to join the two of them for a movie night instead.

That had been the first of a bizarre sequence of events that had conspired to keep them from their date and had led them to today, Tuesday, when _five minutes_ before he left to pick her up he had been informed that there was a body in rural Virginia that required his partner's unique expertise.

"Diner or Founding Fathers?" he asked as he wove through four lanes of Beltway traffic to take their exit.

"Neither," she shook her head without opening her eyes.

"Okay," if he was honest he knew he wasn't up for anything public either. "Your place or mine?"

"Booth," this time she did open her eyes, looking right at him, "I'm dirty, exhausted, and sexually frustrated. You decide."

***

She watched her partner's jaw drop slightly at her candor but was too tired to take the words back. For a moment, she thought about adding that all of her problems could be resolved with a hot shower and a firm mattress but was uncertain if he would be agreeable or take offense. Apparently, Booth was unsure how to answer as well, though it seemed he had decided where he was taking her.

"Are you coming up?" she invited when he pulled into her building's parking lot.

"Sure," he accepted with a sly smile. "Never know when a serial killer's gonna be lying in wait for you."

"I knew he was going to be there," she reminded him smugly.

"Yeah, tell me, were you planning on calling me before or after you'd hidden the body?" he sounded serious, but his eyes held a teasing glint.

"Before, of course," she smirked, brushing invisible lint off of his jacket. "We _are_ partners, you know."

"I've heard that before," his voice was low and he caught her hands in his and kissed her briefly.

She pouted when he pulled back.

"Eau de death isn't sexy," he winked, reaching around her to take her keys from her hand and unlocked the door. "Go shower and change. I'll scrounge up something edible."

The hot water felt good and it was a full half hour before she emerged in a tank top and soft pants.

"Soup's on," he said through a mouthful of eggs.

She smiled at the spinach and tofu salad he'd prepared for her and joined him at the table. Their light banter ensued as they ate, both of them ignoring the more obvious issues they needed to discuss. This avoidance followed them as they cleared the dishes and adjourned to the living room.

"You know what you need?" Booth asked as they settled on the couch, continuing at her raised eyebrow. "A decent sports package," he claimed, clicking through the few channels she did get.

"I see," she smiled, bemused.

Her smile melted as his phone rang. She listened to his half of the conversation, waiting for him to finish.

"Body's at the lab," he told her. "All ready for you to dig into tomorrow."

"I should go back in," she sighed, not really wanting to, but feeling obligated.

"Nope," he shook his head. "It's almost eleven, Bones. A few hours isn't going to make or break this one."

Considering her initial observations, she determined that he was correct and nodded, another thought striking her, "Do you need to go in?"

"Nope," he shook his head, draping his arm around her, "I'm all yours, baby."

They both absorbed the double meaning in that statement, neither sure of what to say next. She leaned back on the couch and came in contact with the dress she had quickly stripped out of when he'd called about the body earlier. Scooping it onto her lap she stared at it, wondering if she wanted to leave the comfort of Booth's embrace to put it away.

"I like that dress," he commented suddenly.

"You do?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "it's the one you wore to the Anok exhibit right?"

She nodded, impressed.

"It looks hot on you," she was fairly certain he was flirting with her.

"Well, perhaps I'll wear it for you again," she flirted back.

"How 'bout now?" there was no teasing in his voice.

"Now?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've still got my suit on, Bones, so it's only fair."

She rolled her eyes, but stood nonetheless. As she moved to the bedroom and shed the clothes she had just changed into she realized that she would never have done this for any of the other men she had dated in the past. Not that she didn't like to look nice for a date, but she definitely wouldn't have changed clothes just because they wanted to see her in something different.

On a whim, she slipped into the shoes she had discarded earlier in the evening as well and snatched her wrap from its heap on the bed. Satisfied that she looked just as she had before, she turned the lights off with a click and left the room.

***

A part of him couldn't believe she'd actually taken him up on his offer, but the other part knew that she had wanted this date tonight as much as he had. Moving quickly as soon as she was back in her room, he picked out one of her soft jazz CDs and popped it in, then used his Zippo to light the candles scattered throughout the room.

Once he'd dimmed the lights to their lowest setting, he grabbed his jacket and tie from where he'd taken them off when he'd first gotten there. The jacket went back on first and he had just started retying the tie when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Wordlessly, she spun him around to face her, then proceeded to loop the tie around and secure the knot just right; all the while keeping her eyes glued to his.

Only when she had finished, did he break eye contact to admire her and she looked confused as he picked up her hand and spun her around.

"Beautiful," he breathed when she was facing him again. "Just like I knew you would be."

The candlelight made the color rising to her cheeks look like she was glowing.

"This is where you tell me I'm handsome," he said lightly.

"We both know that you are," she instantly was at ease like he'd hoped she'd be. "Why fuel that humongous ego?"

"It's a date thing, Bones. Go with it."

"Is this a date?" she wondered.

"Good dinner, candlelight, music," he ticked off the points as he began leading her in a slow dance across her living room floor. "What more could you ask for?"

"But it's not a date in the traditional sense of the word," she insisted. "We're not at a restaurant, we're in my apartment, listening to a CD."

"It's not where you go," he realized for the first time since this whole roller coaster ride had begun, "it's who you're with that counts. Besides," he grinned down at her, "since when have we ever been traditional?"

"According to Angela?" she laughed lightly. "Never. She says we've been dating for the last five years without any of the 'good stuff' which according to her can't happen while fully clothed."

"That sounds like Angela," he shared in her laugh.

"I think she might be right," she cocked her head to the side. "I certainly never knew any of my other dates- before or after those relationships ended- as well as I know you."

"Bones, you know secrets of mine that no other soul on earth does."

For a long moment, there was no sound but the soft strains of sax as they moved as one.

"When did this happen?" she asked quietly when the music stopped.

"What, Bones?"

"This level of rapport between the two of us," she went on. "I-I always thought it would be more awkward, but instead it feels as if we're simply following the natural course of things. That this truly is the next logical step."

"I don't know, but I'm not gonna fight it," he smiled down at her. "Are you?"

"No," she said softly, melting into him. "No I am not."


	7. Limbo

Limbo

Dr. Zack Addy was uncertain as to why- after so long- he had felt the compulsion to correct the psychologists' erroneous conclusion. It had not freed him and he suspected that D. Sweets was not pleased with having to conceal the truth from their friends.

Long after he had been returned to his quarters he contemplated whether or not he truly would have killed had he been given the opportunity. He was uncertain. Yes, he had been operating under faulty logic at the time and he hadn't had any reservations about provided the man's location; however, as Dr. Sweets had pointed out, he had _not_ been required to physically commit the murder. The more he thought of what his actions would've had to have been, the less he believed he could have gone through with it.

In the end, though, he concluded that it didn't matter. He was an accessory to murder, but not in jail; a psychiatric patient, but far from insane; and- like the bones he had hidden at his master's bidding- in limbo.


	8. Buckle

"Do it."

"I don't want to."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I don't care."

"You should."

"Well I don't."

"I'm not going to your funeral again."

"Good to know."

"Surely, the Bureau must have a policy regarding this."

"Surely, I don't care."

"You said that already."

"Good to know you're keeping score."

"This isn't a sporting event."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure _you_ could make it one."

"Only because _you_ are so stubborn, and don't think I've forgotten my original point."

"Never."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You didn't say, 'nothing' because I heard something and saw your lips move."

Silence.

"There did my lips move enough for you?"

"For now; though I'm still not convinced that you should be above the law."

"I _am_ the law, Baby."

"Just let me do it for you, and don't call me Baby!"

"Uh, Bones, that's not the right buckle."


	9. Family

Family

"Bones?" he called out as he tentatively entered her apartment.

He' been knocking on the door, knowing she was inside, and when she didn't answer right away he had finally resorted to using his key.

"I'll be out in approximately eight minutes," her voice floated to him from down the hall.

"Okay," he grinned at her precision, shucking his jacket and tossing it over the nearest chair while losing his shoes in deference to her hardwood floors.

Taking stock of his surroundings, he noted that her kitchen looked like a food bomb had gone off in it. Delicious scents mingled from the oven and stovetop, causing his stomach to rumble in anticipation. Without a second thought he rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, slung a dishtowel over his shoulder, and started cleaning. He was finishing up the last counter when she emerged.

"You don't have to do that," she chided lightly, taking the rag from him.

"I wanted to," he smiled back, then quipped, "but since you were late and all…"

"Late?" her face scrunched in confusion.

"It took you eleven minutes," he nodded at the clock, tone serious. "Three minutes late, Bones. Way to treat a guy on his birthday."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a small shove.

"Violence, Dr. Brennan," he clucked, "very unbecoming." He waited a beat, "Guess I should be used to it by now, though." Her eyebrow rose so he continued, "You've been pushing me around for five years."

"I have not," she retorted, moving past him and peeking into the oven. "Grab the dishes. Set four places."

"Have so," he countered, opening the cabinets, "since Cleo's funeral. Wait. Who else is coming over?"

"You'll see," she sang, retrieving food and putting it into serving dishes.

"Bones," he whined as he set the table, "I told you no parties this year."

"Don't you trust me?" she challenged.

He nodded, grumbling, and pretty sure he was the most whipped guy she'd never dated.

"Good," that triumphant smirk of hers mocked him.

She finished up dinner while he poured the wine- "three glasses, not four, Booth"- and tried to figure out what she was hiding. When she didn't budge, he started guessing what foods she had prepared based on what he was smelling.

"Astute," she conceded, "but I informed you of the menu two days ago."

"Not about dessert," he winked, "and I _know_ what I'm smelling is pie!"

"We'll discuss confectionary treats later," she said, setting the last of the food on the table. "Right now it's time for your presents."

"Bones, you didn't have to," he claimed as she dragged him into the living room.

"I wanted to," she smiled. "Now, close your eyes."

He did, wondering what she had gotten him. It didn't matter, he decided, because he was pretty sure that none of her boy toys- not even Sully or the nutty professor- had gotten a special birthday dinner like this. A feather light touch alighted on his elbow and stayed there as she announced he could open his eyes.

Nothing could have prepped him for the sight of Pops and his boy, standing in Bones' living room smiling at him. She nudged him forward just as Parker launched a hug at him and his heart swelled at the embrace.

"Happy Birthday, Shrimp!" Pops was hugging him next.

"Me 'n' Bones got Pops after school today and you know what?" Parker bounced up and down.

"What, Bub?"

"I get to stay the whole weekend, even though it's not ours! And next weekend too!" Parker crowed and Bones nodded in confirmation.

With another quick, tight hug, the eight year-old turned his enthusiasm to the table full of food, Pops not far behind.

"Bones," he stopped her, keeping her by his side as they spoke quietly. "How- I mean, why…"

He couldn't form the thought fully and begged with his eyes for her to catch his drift.

"Well, after last year…" it was her turn to trail off, shrugging.

Yeah, he nodded in silent understanding, last year and the whole Jared debacle; one of the main reasons he'd begged off on a party this year.

"We do things for family," she touched his chest with her fingers briefly, smiling softly. "You taught me that. You deserve this."

All of the insecurities he'd felt when ranked beside the laundry list of other guys in her life evaporated instantly, along with his need to know where he stood with her. Because no matter what they were, no matter what they called it: they were family.


	10. Siren

**For Bama, for planting this thought.**

* * *

Siren

"No. No. No. No. No," Seeley Booth stormed into one of the makeup rooms in the Hoover's undercover department. "This is _not_ happening, Bones."

His partner-who was currently dressed in the tightest, lowest halter top known to man, along with a band-aid of a mini-skirt, and fishnet stockings that looked like they'd been tailored to her long legs- looked down at him from her high stool, surrounded by makeup artists.

"Hi, Booth," she said casually.

"Don't 'Hi, Booth' me, Bones, and don't think you're going out like that, either," he folded his arms across his chest and glared.

"Agent Perotta needs me," she glared back.

"Not dressed like that she doesn't!" he all but yelled. "And what happened to only working with me?"

"Apparently, _somebody_ read my file and noted my superb track record in undercover investigations," she said haughtily. "Not to mention, Assistant Director Hacker felt that I would make the perfect 'red light special in a blue light district' and recommended me to Agent Perotta."

Booth clenched his jaw and tried not to focus on his desire to march upstairs and pull his gun on Hacker and his stupid crush, before replying, "You got your colors mixed up there, Bones, and I don't care if the Pope himself recommended you. You aren't leaving this room dressed like a hooker."

"I doubt the Pope would endorse prostitution."

"Bones."

"Booth."

Sensing the growing tension between the partners, the makeup techs cleared out, leaving them alone.

"What's the real issue, Booth?" she hopped down gracefully from her stool. "Why are you so upset?"

He started to answer but had to gulp mid-breath as she closed the distance between them, giving him a perfect view of all the things her outfit did and didn't cover.

"Come on, Booth, don't be shy," she pressed, continuing to move forward. "What could you possibly objet to?"

He stood his ground but more from shock than anything else. All of a sudden she stopped and pulled back.

"Well, if you have nothing further to add I believe I'll go see if this meets with Andrew's approval."

"No," he ground the word out, grabbing her arm before she could leave.

"Why. Not. Booth?" she enunciated every word slowly, her face inches from his.

"Because you're mine," the words rushed out raw and uncensored.

He braced for the fallout, but instead of either flattening him or running, she relaxed under his grip, eyes softening, and he swore he saw her nod.

"What was that?" he asked at her faint mutter.

"I said 'finally,'" she answered, looking him in the eye. "I was beginning to think I would have to resort to one of Angela's flashing techniques."

"Um," his eyes glanced at her shirt's neckline of their own accord before he dragged them back to her face, "you pretty much did- wait!" His eyes narrowed, "There's no assignment, is there?"

"I've told you numerous times I'm a good actress," she was flirting openly with him now.

"Shame on me for not believing you," he inhaled her scent, nostrils flaring.

"Indeed," she nodded, "you should be punished."

"Hey, Bones," he said as she began to nibble at his neck, "what say we _not_ devour each other at the Hoover, okay?"

"Fine," she smirked up at him, "my place, then. I've been looking forward to finding out how adept you are at undercover investigations for some time."


	11. Dirt

**Apparently my muse went on Hiatus with Bones but it finally gave me this.**

**-Gum**

* * *

Dirt

A shrill noise pierced through her subconscious, dragging her up from the depths of her peaceful slumber. She groaned and fumbled blindly for the phone, answering it only to stop the incessant ringing.

"Sweetie," Angela began without preamble, pausing only long enough for Brennan to grunt her acknowledgment. "Sweetie, you need to get up and call your publicist right away!"

"Why?" Brennan asked through a yawn. "What's going on?"

"Well," the artist took a deep breath, "so I was in grabbing some groceries at Giant and you know all those magazines and stuff they have in the checkout lanes?" There was no time for Brennan to answer as her friend continued breathlessly, "It's not like I look at them regularly, though sometimes I do and this time I had to because your face was plastered everywhere!"

"My face?" she asked. "What's so urgent about that? I've been in the tabliods before."

"Well, it's not so much your face as its what your face is attached to," Angela emphasized the last word. "Or rather, _who_, because all I could see was you and someone who looks suspiciously like Special Agent Hot Stuff sucking some major face. And in one of the pics it looks like he got to second base too."

"I don't know what that means," Brennan frowned.

"And these headlines," Angela went on, "this one says, 'Finding Her Andy,' another one claims 'More Than Just Partners,' and then there's 'FBI Agent Throws His Doctor a Bone.' Should I keep going?"

"Ange," Brennan answered long-sufferingly, "the tabloids have been conjecturing about the true nature of my relationship with Booth for years now."

"Yeah, but whoever touched up these pictures did an expert job. I mean, _I_ know they can't be real but that's not the conclusion everyone else in the world is going to draw!"

"Fine," Brennan sighed, "I'll have my publicist look into things."

"Good," the relieved reply came. "Though, Bren?"

"Yes?"

"One of these years you really ought to give him a chance and take him for a test ride."

"Goodbye, Angela," she sang, quickly hanging up the phone and sinking back down into her pillow.

"So I got caught stealing second?" a somnolent voice rumbled in her ear.

"Apparently that alley was not as private as we thought," she felt heat rising in her cheeks.

"Hey," Booth grinned wildly, "I'm not the one who dragged us there in the first place."

"Yes, but you were the one who assaulted me with your lips," she trailed a finger down his bare chest. "And pressed me up against that wall."

"Easiest way to shut you up," he shrugged, eyes twinkling, "and I didn't hear any complaints from your end."

Before she could retort he pulled her closer and caught her lips with his once more. There wasn't any less passion than there had been the night before when he'd shocked her into silence, but it was slow and languorous rather than frenzied.

"How long do you think it'll take Ange to figure out they're real?" he asked when they'd pulled back for air.

On the nightstand the phone rang once more and she glanced at the Caller ID.

"Not long at all."


End file.
